If I Lost You
by seafeather-ono
Summary: A series of drabbles featuring my favourite pairing: Marlene McKinnon and Gideon Prewett
1. Only You

**A/N: **I haven't forgotten my other two stories but I have a few one-shots that I'll be posting today and tomorrow. Enjoy!

* * *

Gideon was in trouble. It had nothing to do with the rather extensive swamp he'd helped Davey create the day before. Nor was it strictly related to the NEWTs he'd be taking in a few months and almost certainly flunking. It wasn't even the curse'd holiday, known to most as Valentine's day. No - Gideon was going to be killed by the Slytherins. And there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

Okay, so maybe killed was a strong word. And technically, he could back out. But he was going to make a royal fool of himself in front of them, and his stupid Gryffindor pride wouldn't let him forget the whole stupid idea. Gideon wasn't unfamiliar with the practice of making a fool of oneself. Indeed it was something he regularly did, with little thought for the consequences. This was different.

For one, he usually did pranks or such for a lark, just a way to relieve boredom. Never before had he done a prank for someone else. Although he supposed that shouting "I'M GIDEON PREWETT, AND DEMENTERS GIVE ME THE COLLYWOBBLES," in the direction of the Slytherin table hardly counted as a prank. More of a stupid stunt. He hoped that Hagrid would realise it was a joke, not a personal attack on his vocabulary. That would ruin not only what would hopefully be an excellent memory for Marlene, but also the friendship with the gamekeeper he'd come to value.

Then, there was, of course, the question of why exactly he was doing this at all. Gideon had never been heartless, per say, but he wasn't the sort of bloke who acted on his friends' whims either. Why then, was Gideon so fixated on helping Marlene produce a corporeal patronus? He did feel protective of her, didn't like to think of her still at school while he was off, running through Europe and generally wreaking havoc on his mum's nerves. But this was more than that. Maybe it was the idea of Marlene not having the memory to produce one that was the issue. He loved his mates, wanted them to be happy. He usually didn't do anything he could to make sure they were, though.

There couldn't be anything more to it - Marlene was his mate. And that was that. Right? It wasn't like he wanted to snog her or hold her hand or touch her hair which seemed incredibly silky or….. oh shite. Shite shite shite buggery fuck fuck merlin's pants he was so screwed.

Why oh why did he have to realise he fancied Marls now? Before he actually pulled off the stunt; before it mattered so much that she get happy memories. And on the eve of Valentine's day too. If there wasn't something incredibly ironic in that, Gideon didn't know what was. He'd be thinking of her constantly, now, always re-thinking his interactions with her…. and that was exactly what he didn't want. Gideon loved the easy camaraderie the two shared; to have it ruined over his stupid feelings was…. well… exasperating, to say the least.

He tried to avoid Marlene's gaze all morning - he couldn't let his feelings distract him. Just in the middle of lunch, when most everyone was in the Great Hall, Gideon stood and made his way over to the Slytherin table, prompting strange looks from all around the hall. The blonde ignored his shaking knees, and carefully shouted his prepared speech. As expected, stunned laughter broke out everywhere. Turning round, Gideon caught sight of Marlene's expression among the swarm of Gryffindors, and somehow, it made everything well worth it.


	2. Gone

**A/N: **This one's been stewing for just over a month, now. These two are my absolute favourite and this is only one way things could go down; I've about a zillion different versions in my mind. Thanks to everyone who read it in an earlier stage and suggested changes and/or yelled at me for emotionally wounding them. If you're curious about one of my two chaptered stories, yes, I _am_ still writing those. I promise.

**Disclaimer: **Queen Rowling owns everything. (Still.)

* * *

It's mid-July, the very middle of summer. Marlene's gone home for the weekend, to spend time with her family. And Gideon's sleeping off his hangover, hoping that by the time he wakes up, the headache will be gone and Marlene will be back at the flat with Sunday supper in its place.

Sometime around five, Gid recovers enough to put the kettle on, though the rattle of dishes as he searches, vainly, for a clean mug, makes the room spin. He thinks the sudden burst of light must be due his current sensitivity, but as he blinks, he realises it's not just light, it's a patronus. Marlene's collie. And it speaks with her voice, screams "Gideon!" with such fear that Gideon's shocked sober, and before he can think it through he's grabbing his wand and disapparating to the lonely windswept McKinnon manner.

Except, tonight, the house isn't lonely; above the house floats a ghostly green skull and then Gideon's on his knees, emptying his stomach into the shrubbery. He wants to rush inside, wants to believe that Marlene's escaped, that's she's safe; but his training takes over and he sends a message to Fabian, another to Dumbledore, and a third to Moody for good measure.

The wait for someone to show is agonising, but Gideon can't face the house, with all its final truths, alone. It's only as the first newcomer apparates in that Gideon beings to worry about the Death Eaters returning to the scene, but it's his brother's familiar features that come into view, and it's all Gideon can to not to sob. Still, there are protocols, and they raise their wands slowly, Gideon asking, "Why don't you like root beer?" His eyes kind, Fabian says "Cause it made me wet the bed. And... Gid... what's your street name?" which gets a wavery "Gidspaff" in reply. The wands drop, and Gideon's conscious of being hugged very tightly. Next to appear is Dumbledore, flanked by Dearborn and Meadowes. Fabian checks them, standing a bit in front of Gideon and telling Dumbledore "It's okay, it's him, I've checked already," though Gideon hears it as though through a tunnel, all weird and echoey. The process repeats, and then it seems they have enough backup to enter the mansion, and so they set off: they twins, Dumbledore, and half a dozen Order members, all grim faced.

The house is dark, and they find Mr. McKinnon in the front hall, his body shielding that of his wife. Mason lies in the drawing room, but Marlene is nowhere on the first floor, and hope, stupid hope, surges through Gideon. Maybe she'd made it; maybe she's at St. Mungos... He considers voicing these sentiments but the set of the others' mouths tell him this isn't the time.

Gideon had meant to leave her room for last, but something draws him to its closed door. Alone - the others are searching elsewhere; dealing with the bodies - he pushes the door open. Marlene's room looks much as it normally does, though her overnight bag lies open on the bed.

And beside it, looking as though she'd simply fainted, is Marlene, her blonde hair splayed on the carpet like a halo. Gideon knows, before he reaches her, that she is gone, and yet he rushes to the side of the girl he loves. The girl who is dead, who is cold to the touch; whose hair, upon closer inspection, is mussed and who has a scratch on her cheek and wide eyes. The girl who never let go of her wand.

He doesn't know how long he kneels there, holding Marlene, tears pouring down his face. They must've had to stun him; he remembers not wanting to let go.

Gideon awakes to bright sun streaming through the windows of Fabian's apartment the next morning. He is cold, hollow, as though someone had scooped out his heart, and he can't remember why he is angry at the cheerfulness of the sun, but then Gideon realises he isn't in his flat, in his bed, and Marlene isn't beside him, because Marlene is...

He began shouting, then, not caring about the neighbors or the statute of secrecy because Marlene McKinnon has been murdered by Death Eaters and there is nothing, no point. How dare the sun shine, how dare people remain happy and ignorant of the loss that wracks Gideon, that tore his world apart and leaves him cold and alone. His voice has begun to crack, but still he shouts, because when he is angry there isn't room for the grief. It is easier, better, not to feel the sadness, not to miss her, because that means she is really gone; that it isn't some horrible demented nightmare.

Someone - Fabian - presses a glass into his hand, and Gidon swallows the firewhisky down, the burn searing his throat, numbing the tightness in his chest. He gets extremely drunk, taking another shot whenever thoughts of Marlene creep in, but the next morning Gideon feels emptier than ever, his stomach clenching painfully. He knows it's stupid; she's gone, and the drinking won't bring her back, but it's all he can seem to do. He lives on Fabian's couch, drinking all the alcohol within sight. There is always a fresh bottle when he wakes up, that much cut through the drunken haze that is his every day, now. He refuses food, comfort, and to move from his spot. It's his fault Marlene died alone, had gone home that weekend, and hadn't been with her parents or her brother when _they_ came; had been in her room, packing...

It's Friday when Molly stops by, and the word "funeral" cuts through Gideon's fog.

"Funeral?" he repeats dumbly, and both siblings turn to him in shock. "I... I have to go."

"Not like that," says Fabian.

"Drunk? Not left the couch in days? She deserves more," Molly says, the sympathy in her voice making his heart hurt.

"Have to go," Gideon repeats, his mind beating a constant refrain. Funeral? Have to go. Funeral? Have to go.

He stands, altogether too quickly, and his legs give way beneath him. It takes Fabian's help to shower, and he manages a bit of tea and toast before passing out, exhausted.

He wakes in the morning with a headache and sense of purpose. He has to go to the funeral, has to pay his respects. Gideon floos back to his flat, digs out the black suit Marlene had hated, and resists the urge to drink the contents of their small liquor cabinet. The funeral is set for Saturday afternoon, and it is all Gideon can do to stand there, accepting condolences from far too many goddamned people, people who hadn't _known_ Marlene, and what right have they to be sorry, be sorry for him? And yet, Gideon feels a strange detachment from the anger, from the entire proceeding. Funerals are supposed to offer some sort of closure, some sort of relief, or so he'd heard, but all Gideon feels is empty.

Still, there is a war on, and there isn't time to mourn or sort out emotions. Gideon had wasted a week, drunk or sleeping, not doing anything useful. Not tracking down Travers; not making someone _pay_ for having taken Marlene from him. The war, which had been a somewhat idealistic cause to Gideon, before, suddenly has new meaning and purpose; an urgency and presence not there before. Because it's one thing to fight to make his world a better place, a place everyone could feel safe; and quite another to realise that there is no safe, only taking enough of _them_ along with you, when you went.

He becomes more reckless, foolhardy, taking stupid risks; but always making it back to Headquarters, and sometimes Gideon hates it. Hates that he keeps on living, breathing, while she is gone. That he can put himself in harm's way and be fine, but she, supposedly safe at home, she had been killed...

And for a week or two, no one says anything, no one tells him off for not caring about his own skin, what his death would do to Fabian, to Molly, to his parents. What it would do o his friends; to the Order. After all, they are all shocked as well; this has been one of the first attacks on their own.

At the very end of July, Gideon and Fabian go on a mission together. Gideon is reckless, perhaps more so than usual, but this time it's Fabian who gets the brunt of curses, and he's furious. "If you want to bloody kill yourself, don't take me along with you," Fabian says through gritted teeth, wincing as his wound is cleaned and the healing begins to take effect.

Gideon stares, gap-mouthed, at his twin for a moment. "What do you mean, 'kill yourself'?" he asks slowly.

"I mean, this invincible, impulsive _shit_!" Fabian's voice rises, and he begins breathing heavily again, as though this simple statement has exhausted him. "What the fuck were you thinking in there, Gid? Gonna go down fighting? And what about the rest of us, hmm? Who'd have to make it out of there, probably in shit shape cause you were so careless, what about us? What about Molly and Arthur, what about the kids? How's she gonna explain that to them? Why don't you ever fucking _think_?"

And Gideon is angry too; he's been getting more frustrated with every word Fabian says, because he knows that Fab is right; he's been a selfish prick; but he can't seem to stop. Because when he stops, he starts thinking, feeling, and then it all hurts too goddamned much, but he doesn't know how to say these things. He doesn't know how to describe how much it hurts not to go chasing after Travers and hunt him like a dog. How much just getting up in the morning is a struggle. How pointless it has all begun to seem. And though he can't articulate these things, there is something else holding him back as well. He is afraid; afraid that Fabian will make him stop, make him tell Dumbledore just how not "fine" he is; how he is not coping, not even a little bit. But the fighting, the missions, they are the one thread holding his life together any more. And Gideon is afraid that without them he won't have anything holding him together and he will crumple, and that perhaps is worse. Because he misses her so much, but he can't stand the pain; can't stand being weak because of her. He wants to be strong for her; he wants to honour her memory, as stupid as that seems, and he cannot do that if he's stuck in his bed. He can't go back to that first week; that alcohol-flavoured haze. He has to move forward somehow, but he doesn't know how. Doesn't know anything other than focusing on the missions, that's all there is, the next one and the next one…

He knows he's been silent for far too long, that Fabian wants answers, that he's worried. "I miss her," Gideon says, his voice nearly a whisper. He's ashamed that this is all he can say; that he can't give her the words she deserves.

"And?" says Fabian. "You're not the only one who misses her, you know. Yes, you were dating and you loved her, but that didn't make her yours; doesn't make this loss yours alone."

He knows these things, he doesn't need Fabian reminding him; and yet, something about the statement bothers him.

"I know she's not mine," Gideon begins. He's speaking, slowly, carefully, not wanting his agony to spill from his lips uncontrolled. "I know that other people loved her. I know all that. But they were her friends. She's gone. Her family's gone. I… I could have…" Tears prick his eyes as he realises this is what he's been skirting around. This is why it hurts so much. He doesn't just miss Marlene, for all the memories they had; how his life has become shaped around hers. He misses everything that they could have become. She had been his reason to have faith; to have hope. She had been his future, though neither of them had been willing to admit to such a thing, afraid it would make that loss they hoped would never come all the worse. Gideon doesn't know if this could be worse, and frankly, he doesn't care. This hurt is enough to deal with. It's more than enough.

Fabian seems to understand, though. He stops glaring, instead coming to sit next to his brother, putting his arm around Gideon's shoulders. And though Gideon has had enough of crying, of being sad, the tears come anyway. He doesn't know how long they sit there, side by side, but when he is done, Gideon is suddenly exhausted in a way he's not been since Marlene died. The trip back to Fabian's flat is a blur of tiredness, but the air feels cool on his face and he knows, that it will take a long time, maybe longer than he has, but one day, he will be fine again. Fine with Marlene gone.


	3. Around Her

**A/N:** There was an unexpected breakup; in which the characters knew better and completely ruined the plots planed for the next month and a half. I'd been planning this drabble for ages, but suddenly everything feel into place. So here it is.

**Disclaimer:** Queen Rowling owns everything.

* * *

Gideon hadn't meant to end things with Marlene, he hadn't wanted to, and yet things were, unquestionably, over. He had built his whole life around her without even realising it, and now, it was hitting him, just how essential she was. Without her in his life, everything was just a bit more dead-end than it had been before.

And now he can't stand her presence in his room - everywhere from the corkboard to the presents he'd gotten her for her birthday in two weeks - so he sets about hiding it all.

Marlene's drawings - one of the only things on his cork board - went into the drawer with her letters. He gets a pang as he realises she had won the bet. She'd had her own drawer for weeks now, but with everything that had happened, he'd never remembered to tell her. Now he didn't know that he ever would.

The presents - the snitch necklace, the tiny charm the size of his thumbnail was already wrapped; sitting in his closet. He puts this on top of the letters and drawings. Seals the drawer with a locking charm. And then there was the Falcons shirt he'd been wearing, charming to keep the smell, washing, and repeating, so it'd be infused with that scent Marlene seemed to love, and be incredibly soft as well. It was supposed to be the second half of her present, but now he can't stand to look at it. He considers burning it, but he's not ready to leave his room, yet. Besides, there's a finality to that which he just can't face. So instead it's stuffed in a paper bag and pushed away into the darkest corner of that top shelf, as though not seeing it would remove the pain. It doesn't work.

And that was it, she was really, truly gone from his life.

Except he can't stop thinking about her. Because despite everything, he cares about Marlene. She had been his friend long before he had ever fancied her, and Gideon hates that she might never be again. That looking back, he'd wasted everything on a girl who'd clearly cared less for him than she did for much of anything. Because he's seen her be more passionate about potatoes than she had been that afternoon. And he doesn't know what to do about it.

* * *

_Rewind, to third year, a rainy Saturday. The common room is full of people putting off school work as long as possible. Quidditch is on the wireless, and Gideon's half paying attention to his Charms reading, half to Marlene's enthusiastic cheering for some team he's never heard of._

_"Remind me who's playing, and why you care so much?" She turns from the wireless, her eyes bright. "Wigtown Wanderers. And Puddlemere United. But we're rooting for Wigtown. Don't tell me you don't follow quidditch, Prewett! This win is crucial to the Tornados making the League Cup - Wigtown's got to crush Puddlemere." Marlene pauses for breath, and he can't help but laugh._

_"So you're a Tornados fan, then."_

_"Yes, and you didn't answer my earlier question."_

_"Which was?"_

_"Don't you follow quidditch?"_

_"Not quite like this, no." He doesn't tell her that no, he doesn't follow it at all, that he'd much rather play it than watch it, and that if he's got free time, he'd rather work out the kinks in the prank he's got planned with his dormmates than worry about who makes the Cup._

_"Like wha-" but then Wigtown scores unexpectedly, and she's on her feet again, dancing around the table, because if Wigtown can just catch the snitch before Puddlemere scores then the Tornados are in the Cup._

_It's another hour before Wigtown does, in fact, win, but not by the margin needed to change the Cup teams. Marlene is crushed, turning off the wireless and flopping into the armchair next to his._

_"There's always next season," Gideon offers, a bit surprised by her reaction. It is, after all, just a game to him, not the passion it is to her._

_"I guess so. Still, I don't have any teams in the Cup, this year. It's a bit disappointing." Marlene uncrosses her arms, and he realises she's wearing a Falcons shirt, which seems a bit on the unsupportive end, until he realises she must support them, as well. Something in his expression must have changed, because Marlene sits up, giving herself a little shake. "Enough of that, though. So, who do you support? You do have a favourite, right? It's not- please say it's not Puddlemere. Or English National"_

_He doesn't mean to lie, exactly, but the words slip out before he can think it through. "The Falcons." And when her face lights up, he knows it is the right answer, even though he's going to have to do quite a bit of studying before he talks to her next._

* * *

Gideon can't stand to think of the rest - of each corner of his life Marlene's touched, whether she knows it or not. This one memory is enough. As much as he hurts, as much as this hurts, he suspects that perhaps it is indeed for the best. That maybe he and Marlene are better apart; better as friends. He's determined to find out. To do all things she'd hate, to not worry about anyone but himself for a while. Try and figure out who Gideon Prewett really is.


	4. Here With You

**A/N:** In which Gideon cheers up Marlene, who's not been having the best couple weeks. Utilises characters from ALOU in a slightly more accurate time-frame: Marlene and Alice are sixth years, the others are seventh, and the Marauders (and Lily) are much younger, around 3rd year. I've had the idea for this one since September, so it's been a long time coming. Reviews are fresh chocolate chip cookies.

**Disclaimer:** JKR owns the universe, the characters... etc.

* * *

Christmas hols had just started, and the Gryffindor common room was quiet for once. Marlene was sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace, her legs stretched out as she sat back against one of the arms, rereading Quidditch Through The Ages for the thousandth time. Outside, she could hear distant echoes of the snowball fight she had decided to forgo in favour of a chat with Alice. But that had been after lunch, and it was now nearing dinner. Alice had gone back to the dorm to wash her hair, and the few younger Gryffindors remaining in the common room seemed to be studying, a task which mystified Marlene. Already, it was far too dark outside for any sane person to be having a snowball fight. Then again, the Prewett twins, who were in charge of this particular escapade, weren't exactly what Marlene would call sane. It should have been nice, reading peacefully, actually being able to hear her own thoughts. But it became all too clear that Marlene was happier in a crowd than alone with her thoughts, because all-too present was the worry, the fear, the what-ifs. Her book wasn't enough to drown them out - it was better as comfort than divertisment, as happens with a certain level of familiarity and hundreds of rereads.

Marlene had been pushing the fears away for weeks, since her last owl from Jamie. Of all her brothers, she loved him most, probably because they were closest in age - Jamie was just two years older than she. Max, who was next closest in age, was five years older than Jamie, the seven-year gap constituting a full generation to a five-year-old Marlene in search of playmates. And Jamie loved his baby sister, for all he relished being just one of the McKinnon boys. By the time Jamie got his Hogwarts letter, he and Marlene were inseparable. The school terms were survived by at least two letters a week, a tradition that continued whenever the siblings were parted.

Frowning slightly, Marlene fished about at the end of her book, where she'd stuck that last letter from Jamie - dated early December - for safekeeping. Unfolding the worn parchment, she reread the hasty postscript: "Don't expect any owls in the near future, Marly," he had written with his usual careless grace, the nickname only he used making her eyes bright with unshed tears."I'm very busy, and about to enter a magic-free zone. Happy almost-Christmas."

Sighing heavily, Marlene re-folded the letter and tucked it back between the pages of her book. Technically speaking, she had nothing to worry about. Everything was fine, fine, perfectly fine. Except that Jamie had expected to be incommunicado for almost a month. She knew his work was very important to the war effort, but what exactly he did - and for whom - was still a mystery. He'd promised to tell her everything, once she finished school. It was that qualification which irked the most - as if a year and a half was going to make such a difference in her maturity or ability to deal with the truth. Still, with Jamie Godric-knows-where and Marlene at school for Christmas, she was left with nothing but an empty common room and too many worries to count.

She had just begun to consider heading down to dinner alone when the portrait hole swung open and a group of fairly damp seventh years spilled into the common room, chattering animatedly amongst themselves. "You missed out, McKinnon," Alex Prewett called, catching sight of the blonde witch. "Hope my sister was worth it."

"She always is," replied Marlene, grinning as Alex clapped his cousins on the back and headed for the dorms. The lone girls of the group, Kiara Bell and Bridgit Thomas, waved cheerfully to Marlene as they hurried to their own dorm, leaving the Prewett twins and Frank huddled by the portrait hole. "Oi, plotters," said Marlene, not bothering to raise her voice.

"Oi, McKinnon," said Frank, coming over to stand in front of the fire, the twins trailing behind him.

"Who said we were plotting?" asked Fabian, his brow furrowed.

"You really going to try and deny it? I have brothers, remember."

"Okay, fine, maybe we were..." Frank trailed off.

"Plotting. You were definitely plotting."

"And what of it, fair McKinnon?" Marlene winced, and Frank and Fabian rolled their eyes at Gideon's grandiose tone. Smiling amiably, he pressed on. "Say we were plotting. Whatcha going to do about it?"

"Depends. If it's interesting or not."

Now Gideon was the one rolling his eyes. "You want in?"

"Maybe."

"Well, unless you want in, I'm not sharing."

"Frank?" asked Marlene.

"Don't go appealing to me. I'm staying out of this one."

"Me as well. Come on, Frank, let's leave these two to haggle." And with an apologetic grin, Fabian headed upstairs, Frank following him. Marlene hadn't noticed while they were talking, but sometime after the snowballers returned, the common room had emptied out, leaving Marlene alone with Gideon.

She wasn't sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, perhaps during fourth year, or maybe fifth - Gideon Prewett had gotten fit. Both the twins were - hell, half the seventh and sixth years were. But Marlene wasn't the sort to swoon over blokes, and it had come as a surprise when the guys she'd adopted as a second set of brothers were suddenly dating her dorm mates. It was an even bigger shock when a slightly drunken Alice suggested she should be the one dating Gideon. He's had a stream of short-lived girlfriends, the brief romances ending amicably and without great discomfort on either part. Alice had claimed it was because he didn't really fancy any of them. Marlene thinks it's mad to be setting up your best mate with your cousin, but she doesn't say anything about that, simply laughing it off as a joke.

Except the thought kept popping into her mind when she'd least like it to. Like when she's sitting alone in the common room, leaning back against one of the sofa arms, legs stretched across the cushions, and Gideon flops down on the other side, facing her; stretching his own legs out, so his feet knock against the outside of her thigh. Marlene bites her lip and forces the blush away from her face. She will not think about what it would be like to date Gideon, to kiss him, to-

"So, I've decided," Gideon begins. Marlene looks up hastily, reminding herself not to act a ninny because of some stupid idea Alice had or because she's very conscious of everywhere his leg is touching hers. "You can ask three questions about this 'plot,' as you've called it. Then you have to decide if you're in or out." Marlene nods, and Gideon grins, the sort of grin she's come to associate with explosions and sudden activation of delayed-time charms. "But, in return," he continues, "I get to ask you three questions. Deal?"

"Three questions about what?" Marlene asks.

"Oh, you know, whatever strikes my fancy."

"Gideon."

"Marlene," he says teasingly, mocking her serious tone.

"What kind of questions can I ask?"

"Yes or no, of course. For the sake of fairness, I'll do the same, yeah?"

She suspects she'll regret this soon enough, but with a small shake of her head, Marlene says, "Yeah, fine. Deal."

"Brilliant. You can go first," Gideon offers.

"Uh, alright. So. This thing you're plotting, will it cause any serious damage?"

"Serious damage is such a vague term, McKinnon. But no, I don't suppose it will." Marlene nods, opening her mouth to ask another question, but Gideon cuts in. "'s my turn, now, remember?"

"Damn," mutters Marlene.

"Okay, so when you leave school, have you got it all planned out?"

"How d'you mean?"

"I mean, do you know what you want to do, how you'll earn the money?"

Marlene pulls a face; whatever she'd been expecting the questions to be, this was at the bottom of the list. "I- no, not really. I've thought about the Auror Academy, I've thought about curse-breaking, I've thought about being a Hit-Witch. Don't have anything that jumps out, though, you know?"

"I do, yeah," Gideon replies ruefully. "And I've much less time than you to figure it out."

"I'd have thought you knew for ages."

"Nope. Not me."

Marlene laughs. "It's my turn again, right? Er- is it the sort of thing that's funny for everyone, or is it only funny to you three?"

"Everyone, I should think. Are you really so worried about people getting hurt and all that?"

"What?"

"That's my second question. D'you need me to repeat it?"

"No, no, I've got it. And no, I'm not, not worried about that at all really. Thought it might give me an idea, though."

"Fair enough," he says, shaking his head.

"Alright. Third and final question." Marlene stops, not wanting to throw away her last question as she'd done with the first two. "Is it mostly sorted? The plot? I mean, have you worked out all the kinks yet, or is there still stuff to be done with it?"

"Definitely the latter," Gideon says with a laugh. "It's more an idea, at this point."

"A plotty idea."

"Yeah, but an idea nonetheless." He leans back a bit, putting one arm on the side of the couch. "Ready for the last one?" He doesn't wait for a response. "Are you seeing anyone?"

She nearly splutters in shock, managing instead to stare at him gap-mouthed for a moment. If she were being honest, this was far more the type of question she'd been expecting, but to spring it on her at the end like this... "No, I'm not seeing anyone, Gideon." She wants to hug her knees to her chest, to escape the suddenly far-too-small couch.

"D'you know, you've said no to all my questions today?" Gideon asks, either ignoring her sudden discomfort or failing to notice it.

"Really?" Marlene asks dryly.

"Really. So, what about it? You in or you out?"

"For the plotty idea?" Gideon nods. She's known along she'd agree, why else would she play this game? So she's slightly resigned when she says, "I- yeah. Fine. I'm in."

He beams, and yet there's a smug look in his eyes. "Knew it. Couldn't resist the secret, could you?"

"Something like that."

"Or you just like talking to me."

"I talk to you plenty, Prewett."

"Plenty?"

"Yes- do you need a definition?"

Gideon laughs, a deep, incredibly amused laugh. "Of plenty? No, I think I know that that means, thanks."

There's a pause, and for a second, Marlene forgets that she should be learning about the plot, or that moments before she was uncomfortable. Something in that laugh has washed all the tension away, and she's happy just to sit by the fire, watching the flames and occasionally glancing back at Gideon's expression.

"Don't you want to know what the 'plot' is?" he asks suddenly.

"It can wait," Marlene says. "You three can tell me together or something."

"Right." Gideon nods, crosses his arms, uncrosses them again. Slouches. Pushes himself more upright.

"You okay?"

"Peachy, thanks."

"Uh huh."

"It's just-" and Gideon pulls his legs up, leaning forward and crossing his arms on his knees, "Why bother with all this? If you end up waiting, anyway?"

Marlene senses there's a second part to this question, but she answers, anyway. "Because, I guess, other things became more important. And sometimes a thing is only interesting until you've got it."

"Oh."

"What? D'you disagree?"

"Hmm? No- I suppose it's true enough. Thrill of the chase and all."

Marlene nods, and pulls her legs up as well. "What is it, Gid?"

"What is what?" She rolls her eyes, and Gideon sighs. "Fine. D'you think I'm interesting?"

Her eyebrows go up in surprise. "Yes? I dunno what you want here."

He seems to struggle with something, before blurting out, "Is it always about the chase, though? I mean, if I were to ask you to Hogsmeade, would that make everything boring?"

"Are you asking me to Hogsmeade, Gideon?"

"I guess I am."

Marlene laughs, a quick huff, before straightening her features. "Well, in that case," she says seriously, "No, I don't think it'd make everything boring." She knows he'd like an answer for the other question, but something about it strikes her as sudden, a bit out of the blue. Sort of like this whole conversation, really. "Why would you ask me?"

"Because," Gideon says, "That's what people do when they fancy someone, yeah?"

"What, ask them to Hogsmeade?"

"No, arrange a date or something." He sighs again, a smile belaying the frustration in the gesture. "Is it ever easy to get a straight answer from you?"

"No," Marlene says cheerfully.

"I thought not. Well, what do you say?"

"You fancy me?"

Gideon runs a hand through his hair and laughs. "I do, yeah. It's a bloody mystery, it really is, but there you have it."

"You're shitting me."

"Not about this, McKinnon." She studies his expression for a moment, finding nothing but sincerity in his gaze. "Come on, then, I know you fancy me too."

"I do not!" squawks Marlene indignantly.

"You do so, no point lying about it."

"You are twelve, you know that? I- what if I did, then?"

"Then I happen to know a lovely secret passageway where we could continue this discussion."

"Discussion?"

"Okay, fine, where we could snog, but you knew what I meant."

"I did." Marlene bites her lip, suddenly tired of the banter and games. "Fine. Yes, I do bloody fancy you, too."

She's aware of his triumphant grin for a few moments, before she swings her legs off the couch and grabs his hand, smiling over her shoulder. "Come on, then, we've a discussion to finish." And so, for a few blissful hours, Marlene forgot about the letter and everything she was supposed to be worrying about. Gideon Prewett, she decided, really knew how to distract a girl. And she was just fine with that.


End file.
